


Island In The Flood

by GalaxyAqua



Series: To Destinations Unknown [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Virtual Reality, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Dissociation, F/F, Intrusive Thoughts, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Side Tenko/Himiko, Suicidal Ideation, Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 11:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18234275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyAqua/pseuds/GalaxyAqua
Summary: Heaven is a place for angels, and Angie isn’t one.





	Island In The Flood

**Author's Note:**

> _'Cause, baby, we're just reckless kids_   
>  _Trying to find an island in the flood_   
>  [MAX – Lights Down Low](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-xVwxqjNyI)

 

From the moment her eyes flutter open, Angie miraculously remembers everything.

She fell in love with _Danganronpa_.

She signed up for _Danganronpa_.

She was resurrected for _Danganronpa._

And –

 _Danganronpa_ was her religion.

 

* * *

 

When the doctors push and prod at her, she is the perfect patient. Compliant, sweet, obliging.

“Do you want your memories back?” They ask, but they’re silly and don’t understand yet. Angie doesn’t need them, God gives her everything she requires.

“Angie already has them, no worries!” She says, smiling because isn’t it just a blessing and a miracle that she’s here! Isn’t she just a blessing! A living, breathing miracle!

“Sorry, Yonaga-san… what do you mean by that, exactly?”

“There is no need for you to give memories.” Pushing her hair behind her ear, she peers up at them, tilting her head all birdlike. “Because Angie has platinum membership, God has already given them to Angie as part of a specialty rewards program.”

They exchange brief glances with each other, and they look so washed out against the empty wall. Monochromatic. Boring. Real. There is no color here.

There is no color in this world, anymore.

Of course, she’s juuust kidding! Kidding!

How depressing. That would be. Deeeepressing.

“Yonaga-san, you’re a special one, aren’t you?”

She smiles bigger this time, so hard her cheeks hurt, clasping her hands together so her palms meet intimately. In the backdrop, the strange machine is going hum hum hum.

“Of course. I am,” She giggles, and her voice comes out melodious, “Divine!”

They are not impressed. In fact, they look concerned, which is not good at all, no, no.

“Can you give us an indication that you remember? Do you know who we are?”

“ _Dan-gan-ron-pa!_ ” Angie sounds out, syllable by syllable like they’re asking something obvious. She chirps the name out with confidence. “ _Team Danganronpa!_ ”

“Hmmm… that’s certainly strange. A blow to the head might have done that,” muses one of the _Danganronpa_ doctors, hovering far too close to her forehead.

The pads of his fingers are rough against her chin, moving her head up and down. “That, or you were knocked around enough to have them all shaken back into you. Maybe there really is a God looking out for you.”

He tries for a laugh, but Angie isn’t laughing anymore. His accompaniment laughs for her, cooing quietly, and one nurse even adds, “Yonaga-san, you’re so cute!” which doesn’t do anything but fill Angie with a sense of dread.

But it doesn’t matter. She’s gotta smile, smile, smile her worries and cares and bad feelings away! Bye-bye-bye! Bye-onara bye-bye!

“Well, we’ll run a few more tests but if what you’re saying is true, then you’re certainly lucky.” The doctor continues with a nod. His lips tug into a smirk. “Who would’ve thought? You might have to thank Shinguuji-san for that one.”

Hahaha!

As if he doesn’t know.

Korekiyo murdered her.

And –

Angie is dead.

 

* * *

 

Whoopsie-daisy.

By the way, she really does remember everything. That’s not a joke.

Poor, poor, stupid Angie Yonaga had nothing left to believe in and she didn’t know what to do anymore so she signed up for _Danganronpa_ like a foolish little girl, but that’s okay.

God forgives her! ‘Cause! _Danganronpa_ is God!

 

* * *

 

At least, that would be an easier truth to accept than this one. But she just doesn’t need to think about it. No thinking. Nuh-uh. There is no need to think about depressing stuff like that.

She doesn’t think about dying or hurting or any of those unimportant things. Blessings only! A peaceful mind for a peaceful body!

She doesn’t think about how the phantom slit in her neck feels like a knife has been stuck there. Like those funny zombies with the axes in their heads! Ooh, maybe Angie is a zombie!

Or not, because then she would rot away and rotten things are not holy.

It might be nice to be rotten though, she thinks, because rotten things aren’t expected to get better, but holy things are never to get worse.

But Angie shouldn’t want to be anything but holy.

She is one whole, harmonious and true. Angie Yonaga, prophet of God— _no_ , but she’s not, this is all, was all, a fabrication.

She is one whole, harmonious and true. The slit aches like her body is trying to force it back open.

She does not touch it, or hope that she’ll find blood because that would make her death real — like on the _Danganronpa_ death reel, because lord almighty, she died for a show! It’s true, it’s true!

She’s told the truth she already knows about _Danganronpa,_ looks Tsumugi in the eye, and she laughs (and laughs and laughs).

“My goodness, Angie-san,” dear Tsumugi says, plainly perplexed. “Why are you laughing? What seems to be so funny?”

“Tsumugi _, darling,_ you made everything up, didn’t you? Mmhm, you knew this whole time what was going on.” Angie giggles, and she feels like a child. “You’re a silly, silly human trying to play God. I understand. Of course, of course.”

“That’s nothing to laugh about.” Tsumugi says. “I would have thought you’d find that an offence.”

“Not at all,” oh, Angie just can’t stop giggling her little itty bitty heart out. “You’re never going to be a God! Humankind will never rise to that level! You’re a faker. A heretic. God will not forgive you.”

“I don’t believe you are in the right mind,” Tsumugi laments, pressing cheek to palm. “I’d have thought you’d wake up unscathed, seeing as there was very little damage done to you, all things considered.”

 _Little damage,_ Angie echoes to herself bitterly. Right, right, right. Little, indeed.

“Angie-san, I will help you remember.” Tsumugi reaches out for her, but Angie slaps her hand away. She smiles because Tsumugi really doesn’t understand.

“I remember everything.” Angie tells her curtly. “You don’t need to tell me a single thing. God speaks to Angie, so Angie knows.”

“Putting it like that sounds a little insincere,” Tsumugi remarks, bemused. “What is the truth and what is the lie, Angie-san? You probably can’t discern between the two. I will get you the help you need.”

“No. Angie does not need your help. You are no God of mine.”

“Not anymore.” Tsumugi answers, and her eyes shine pretty. Pretty like marbles. “But please don’t forget, I love you dearly, Angie-san. Even when so many people don’t. You were one of my loveliest creations. My angel.”

Angie beams, turns her head, and doesn’t reply.

 

* * *

 

Vividly, she separates herself from _Danganronpa_ Angie, because _Danganronpa_ Angie is tugging on the edges of her brain with a meek tone of voice, asking, “Hey, is it time to go home yet? Angie misses home. Let’s go home now.”

She replies very clearly, “This is home.”

The other Angie goes even quieter, tone ever soft. “I’m scared of staying here. This isn’t home to me. I don’t want to be here. I’m scared.”

They are vividly separate, she thinks, and yet that sounds more like herself than anyone else.

 

* * *

 

She dreams of being slammed into the wood, over and over, helpless to stop _him_ , even though she knows that wasn’t what _he_ had planned.

Panic, turmoil, unfortunate circumstance. Chop, chop, chop.

She knows Korekiyo did not intend to hurt her, at least not at first.

But she got in the way.

Her death was meaningless.

But she got in the way.

 

* * *

 

No! Bad! Thoughts!

Shut! Them! Out!

Goodbye!

 

* * *

 

Angie is dead, dead, dead and Korekiyo killed her.

That’s okay, she got in the way.

Good girls aren’t supposed to get in the way. They’re supposed to do what they’re told, and never step a foot out of line. She knows that, now.

She will not be a bad girl ever again, so nobody will kill her again and Angie will live forever and ever. If she is a good girl, she will be okay, won’t she? If she listens to what people tell her and does exactly what she’s told, her head will stop banging-bang-banging over and over, right?

Angie is a good girl.

 

* * *

 

When Angie was little, she was taught that all the hurt would vanish with rainbow bandaids and kisses and hugs, but the real world doesn’t work like that.

When the real Angie was little and learned that wounds still bleed when they’re under wraps and not all feelings can be fixed with kisses and hugs, she would imagine that God was her friend because nobody else wanted to be.

That was before _Danganronpa_ became God.

Before she let _Danganronpa_ put a devil in her brain.

 

* * *

 

God is always right, so _Danganronpa_ is always right.

Simple, simple, simple. Angie is a good girl, so she will not argue with that.

 

* * *

 

“Are you awake?” Tsumugi asks, knuckles rapping gently on the door.

“Nuh uh,” Angie blinks at her, head tipping to the side. “But what do you want?”

“Everyone’s awake,” Tsumugi relays. Her hair is long and blue like the deep ocean. Like the color of the surface of the water over a trench that would swallow Angie whole, but Angie’s actually never seen the ocean before in her life. Tsumugi’s eyes are also blue like the ocean, but the shallow ocean on the shore of an island Angie has never been to. All imagined things. “And mostly stable enough to move. You’ve been zoning out for days, Angie-san, are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“No, no, no. How long has it been?”

“A week or two,” she shrugs. Tsumugi doesn’t seem to care about her anymore, so Angie doesn’t care either. They’re both liar-liars. That’s the real truth. “Are you ready to go somewhere new?”

Angie’s expression steels itself. “With you?”

“With me.” Tsumugi replies. “And everybody else. Please don’t worry, _Danganronpa_ will keep you safe as long as you follow the rules.”

“Hmmm? Will it? Will it, really?” She asks, even though she already knows that being a good girl will keep her safe.

“Yes,” her tone is very sweet, as if Angie is a child and won’t understand unless she talks nicely. “The fun part may be over, but we still have a job to do! Make sure you listen and do what you’re told, okay?”

“Okaay, okey-dokey,” Angie agrees, because it’s easier than arguing.

“Oh, and bring that.” Tsumugi gestures to the tablet that Angie has more or less abandoned. She admittedly doesn’t care for it, and had only watched _Danganronpa V3_ as she was instructed to, before leaving it be. “You know, you can draw on it, if you like.”

“Angie likes pencils and playing games,” she tells her, taking the shiny square and holding it to her side. “Hey, hey, can we download games on this?”

“Of course,” Tsumugi smiles, looking plenty happy as she offers her hand. “Let’s go. I’ll teach you how to use it on the way over.”

Angie takes it, only because she needs the support to stand.

 

* * *

 

If the world is a big game of hide-and-seek, then there are many great things to be found, and Angie believes that happiness is not one of them.

People are too ungrateful for happiness.

That’s all she’s thinking as the big black _Danganronpa_ car she’s sitting in pulls into a street, and on the corner there’s a yellow billboard that says ‘find your happiness now’. Oh, and there’s a picture of a burger on it too – which is odd in itself, because burgers can’t find happiness, can they? Or are burgers made happy, perhaps? Would it be nice to be made happy?

She squints up at it, wondering, before it goes to hide behind a tall building as the car rolls to a stop.

“You’re a coward,” she tells the billboard burger.

The car door opens. She tries not to flinch when they yell her name. And again, a second time, then a third time.

Geez, didn’t anybody teach them that patience is a virtue? She won’t be unkind though. She has good manners, and she is an obedient girl.

She scrambles across the leather upholstery, rolling out onto the pavement. It feels better to be on the ground again, and she’s glad she kicked off her shoes in the car, even though the guy at the front entrance is looking at her funny.

“Hello, _Danganronpa_ doorman-san!” She greets cheerfully.

It goes ignored as he unlocks the gate, and Angie skips on through.

“Ah, Yonaga-san. Wait.” His sudden, stiff voice halts her in her path. “Have you gone through debriefing yet?”

“Yes, yes, Tsumugi had a fun talk with Angie before she came here.” She tells him cheerfully, starting to list off with her fingers, “Be good, don’t cause trouble, listen to staff, follow the schedule. Isn’t that right?” She looks behind her, but Tsumugi is nowhere to be found.

The doorman nods stiffly. “Right. Also remember to call when you need help.”

“Aww, how nice of you to offer!” Angie chirps, hands clasping over her chest.

He chooses not to respond again, instead pushing some fancy cool buttons with numbers on them that open the doors before her, leading her into the building she’ll be staying in with all the other _V3_ cast members, y’know, like one of those old variety shows that were popular before they all got shafted by _Danganronpa_.

(Let’s live with a bunch of people! Let’s be a family! Let’s not kill each other this time!)

She hates the shiver that runs down her spine at the thought of being on another show.

Thankfully, there’s enough distractions in a place so big and new that Angie doesn’t have to think about cameras and killing games for long, opting to dart around and take in her surroundings.

(There are small cameras. No monitors. No bars or vines on the windows. She eyes the camera in the entryway uneasily and skips deeper into the hall.

“We still have to monitor you,” _Danganronpa_ doctor-san told her when she asked. “Not for entertainment, don’t be alarmed — the footage never leaves the security office. It’s just for your own safety.”

Angie doesn’t like the implications of that.)

It’s an attempt at a welcoming residence, she supposes, what with the nice green pot plants and sofas and paintings – disappointingly, the paintings are all ugly, Angie doesn’t have to be a gifted artist to say that – but amidst the niceness, it reeks of disgusting murder money. Piles of it.

That’s right! _Danganronpa_ kills children for money! But they’re not really dead, so what is the truth? Is it really okay to have a show like this? Is it really okay that Angie died for nothing and then rose for nothing even though rising from the dead is nothing short of a miracle?

She squishes her face as she stares up at one of the stupid paintings.

Suppose she did die. Huh. That’s pretty unfortunate.

She curls her lip, fingers reaching back to rest on the nape of her neck. There is nothing there. That’s good. No worries, no worries at all.

She looks back up at the painting, eyes trailing the marbled grey sky down to the crusty pea-green fields below. Boring, boring picture. It has little glittery speckles on it though, which shine when she tilts her head a certain way, and she likes that a lot.

Time doesn’t pass as it should when she’s staring at the painting. It’s thicker, and slower, and gooey like honey or glue on its way to congealing.

See, she thinks she’s there, but she isn’t, really, she’s drifting into the clouds far far away from here, and she thinks it would be lovely to just never ever come back down to earth, just be stuck in the sky forever, how wonderful that would be, flying above the world, above anything that could ever hurt anyone.

Angie wants to find that place.

 

* * *

 

She’s jolted back to reality by the sound of thunder followed by rain, and it takes her a second to realize it’s actually just someone hurling a door open and hurtling down the stairs.

She sucks in a breath.

 _Run, run, run_ , her mind chants. _Run and never come back. They’ll kill you, they’ll kill you, you’ve never been a good girl, you’re always getting in the way, so run, run, run–_

There’s no time to process what’s happening when a taller figure in blue suddenly comes barrelling towards her and hoists her up with strong arms into a bone-crushing hug, knocking the air right out of her. She squeaks loudly. Embarrassingly.

“Angie-san!” It’s Tenko and she greets with a passionate voice, raw energy engulfing her every movement as she squeezes Angie tight. Tighter. Tightening. “You made it! You’re here! Tenko is so happy to see you!”

 _That’s funny_ , Angie thinks, as she squeezes her back. As far as she remembers, she and Tenko were never particularly close, rather, they hung out because of Himiko, and Tenko betrayed Angie’s trust in the simulation, but if Tenko’s going to ignore that, then so is she.

“Yaaaah! It’s good to see you, Tenko! You’re so lively today!”

Tenko nods, pulling back to smile down at her, setting her back onto the ground.

“Yeah! Getting the blood pumping, and all that!” She hops restlessly from foot to foot. “Tenko was getting really sick of being holed up at the hospital. It’s so good to be out of there, even if it’s just into a nicer looking prison.”

“That’s right, that’s right,” Angie says, more for the prison part, even though prisons aren’t that bad.

Only, now that she thinks about it, prisons are for keeping bad people in so that good people will be safe, and Angie doesn’t want to be a bad person locked away from the world.

She frowns.

“It’s nice that we have some of our old stuff here, too,” Tenko continues, even as Angie starts to lose track of the words, like dragging a volume scroller towards mute. “Even though our old lives are… gone now, at least we have our own clothes and all! Tenko can’t believe some of the stuff she brought with her, gwaah… a blessing and a curse, isn’t it? Oh, but it’s like cleaning out an old closet! You should show Tenko your room sometime, if that’s okay! Is it okay? Ah, hey, uh, Angie-san, are you listening? Angie-san?”

Then, Angie will look at it this way: what if this prison is for keeping the bad people out and the good people in? That would make sense, because they could all live peaceful lives if they are away from the bad world outside.

“Angie-san?” Panic starts creeping into Tenko’s voice but Angie pays her no heed. “Earth to Angie-san? Hello?”

If this is a prison for good people, then that means that this is the best place to be. That means it is not a prison, but a shelter and a safe haven.

“Ooh! Ooh! Angie-san, hey, look who’s arrived!” Tenko exclaims distantly, but Angie is still not listening.

She understands what she must do.

If this is a safe haven, doesn’t that mean Angie should actually enjoy being here? This must have been God’s intention, she muses, so she must let the others know that they should remain here to be happy.

She’ll enlighten them with the truth. It is her wondrous duty.

So lost in her divine rumination she is that she completely misses the red blur that suddenly crashes into her, knocking her back into Tenko with a yelp.

It’s Himiko, precious darling Himiko with hair grown down to her chest and fingers clutching onto the two of them for dear life.

Something flutters beneath Angie’s ribs but she stamps it down. Poor Himiko, she looks so upset. Angie should tell her that they’re in a good place now. A good, safe place, away from all the bad things.

“Oh, Himiko…” Angie murmurs as she wraps an arm around the shaken girl and feels Tenko push the three of them tighter together.

“Yumeno-san, what’s the matter?” She whispers, sounding much more empathetic.

“… don’t… don’t leave me again,” Himiko pleads softly against Tenko and Angie’s chests, fists clenched tight in their shirts, “Don’t leave me, it was lonely without the two of you…” Her words are so weak, so fragile, so faded, and then Tenko is crying, tears bursting free and streaking down her face, leaving her eyes puffy and red.

“We won’t, we won’t ever let you be alone again,” is her steady reassurance. “You were a brave girl, Yumeno-san. You had to see so many horrible things… but you survived, didn’t you?”

Himiko sobs, knuckles growing white with how hard she’s gripping them.

Angie hugs them, and rocks them to and fro like a rowboat, but why are they so sad anyway? Aren’t they alive? Aren’t they all back together again? Shouldn’t they be glad?

Himiko hiccups, and whispers their names over and over. Angie feels herself being crushed by the sheer force of Tenko hugging the two of them back, and she’s lucky she likes hugs or else she’d be really annoyed! But why are they so sad? Why are they —

“There there,” Angie says gently. “We’re okay now.”

“We’re okay, we’re okay, we’re okay,” Tenko repeats, again and again and again. She’s like a broken record and Angie has half the heart to tell her she’s made her point already, but she doesn’t.

“It’s true. We are safe here.” Angie declares instead. “Everyone is safe and sound. So you don’t have to worry, not at all. That’s what God says. We are in a better place! Isn’t that wonderful?”

Himiko whimpers miserably.

“Look, Himiko,” Angie tries, because lying might make her feel better. “Believing really did save us in the end. God loves Himiko. God saved Himiko. Your handsome God…”

Tenko closes her eyes and inhales deeply. Her voice is even quieter, even more strained when she utters, “Please. Not right now, Angie-san.”

So Angie doesn’t say any more. She waits, watches as Tenko’s tears eventually subside, and feels her arms slowly relax around them both.

But Himiko, no, Himiko doesn’t stop crying for a long time. Not until Angie reaches up with her sleeve to blot her tear-stained cheeks, and Himiko looks at her like she’s not quite there.

It lingers, briefly, before Himiko’s gaze drops to the floor.

“I almost wanted to die back then. I thought it might be easier.” She admits quietly. “I really thought about it, you know. Even though I lived. Even though… I was moving forward… I didn’t want to. I was being brave for you, but it was scary. I was so afraid you’d die for someone like me and I…” Her voice trembles terribly. “... would only disappoint you.”

Tenko buries her face in Himiko’s hair. “Oh, Yumeno-san…”

“Sorry…” Himiko murmurs. “I shouldn’t have said that. That was selfish. We only just got here. And you… you died… you both died… without me.”

“No, no, please don’t apologize,” Tenko tells her. “Please don’t ever apologize for your feelings. If you can let them out, you will feel better.” Her voice trembles. “And… Tenko is glad you didn’t die. So, so glad.”

“Angie, too,” she whispers. “God loves you, Himiko. He kept you safe.”

Himiko is silent as the tears well up in her eyes again.

Angie’s head is spinning, and it hurts like a thousand tiny needles pricking at her skull. She wants to make things better, because Himiko’s smile is the loveliest and Tenko is most delightful when she’s calm too, but Angie doesn’t know what to say.

Her throat closes up, and all she can do is hold the two that shake and shake; chained down by a weight she doesn’t understand.

Why can’t she make their hurt go away?

 

* * *

 

Maybe happiness is hiding from hurt, Angie thinks, and that’s why happiness doesn’t want to be found.

Maybe everyone’s a little like that. Maybe that’s why people like to hide in the first place.

 

* * *

 

She tries to greet the others as they’re coming in.

They aren’t so friendly. Saihara rests his hand on her head.

“Don’t let it worry you too much. It’s early days, Angie-san,” he says. “The wounds are still fresh.”

“But there are no wounds?” Angie asks.

Saihara only smiles sadly, and says nothing.

 

* * *

 

The first time she sees the whole _Danganronpa V3_ cast reunited (together, whole, but not together at all) is at a promotional photoshoot.

The season just finished airing, and yet there are demands for more content already streaming in – or at least that’s what Angie has picked up from the whirlwind of employees, moving them in every direction, patting down their faces and hands and clothes.

Angie squirms when the hairstylist brushes her hair, and focuses her gaze elsewhere, to distract herself.

Kaede sits peacefully in her chair, and she smiles when she catches Angie’s eyes.

Angie tries not to blame her for how fake it looks. Once upon a time, Kaede’s smile glowed like a sweltering summer day, raw and genuine and kind. Now, it’s the same kind of smile that people use when they say “I’m fine”, but they really aren’t. But that’s okay. Kaede smiles because she is a good girl, too.

Costuming is a colorful blur, none of the clothes fitting as perfectly as she remembered. Not that they look any different, they just feel heavier. Unwanted, maybe. The yellow fabric of her coat feels foreign against her skin, but Angie wriggles into it and tries not to think about the weight of her necklace against her neck.

Her chest is cold. She knows that no-one’s _looking_ , really, they’re all used to her outfit (she doesn’t particularly want them to be) but she folds her coat over her middle anyway and feigns nonchalance when anybody makes eye contact.

The shared glances are pained. Amidst the buzz from staff, nobody seems to really _see_ what’s going on, and they’re all obedient because it’d be too troublesome – too tiring to be anything else. Subservience, at least, is a simpler state of being. Good children have to listen to what they are told.

They don’t really… say anything to each other, either.

Angie does as she’s instructed, clambering onto Gonta’s back and smiling wide, wide, wide (her teeth hurt with how hard they’re clenched against each other) but the only thing she can muster is the soft, “Is this okay?” when she thinks she might be pressing down too hard on his arm.

“Yeah.” He replies, and that’s that.

The air, Angie senses, isn’t tense at all. It’s just empty. As if nobody is truly present, as if they’re all lost in their own heads, maybe lost in a world that never existed in the first place.

They are all are her cherished friends.

These sad, sad people she loves so much.

 

* * *

 

Angie loves everybody from _Danganronpa V3_ , and that is the absolute truth.

The problem with love, though, is that sometimes love is not enough. She can’t always reach the people she loves. She can’t heal their pain.

She wants to protect them, and wants them to live their best lives! Seize the day!

But she’s beginning to realize that they’re all hurting in their own ways and she can’t do anything about it.

Everyone is so very sad that Angie will do anything she can to make them smile again, because she loves everyone with all her heart.

She remembers the first corpse she ever saw; poor Rantarou, lying dead in the basement library and then Kaede! Sweet Kaede executed for her good-intentioned-non-crime, and up and down and up and down, the notes clang in Angie’s mind in melodic dissonance and Kaede died, then Ryouma with the fishies then Kirumi was all torn up as she ran and fell, and then – oops, Angie died, too!

It’s a pity, a real pity, because the student council would have made the school safe for everyone, made that perfect peaceful paradise for everyone, but this is the path that was chosen for her, and Angie accepts it.

Because things like this are easy to accept – so really, really, really how come all the others look so sad?

It was fake! It was fictional! It wasn’t real! Is that so hard to understand?

Angie wants to make them all feel better, no matter what. She will find a way, because she is blessed and blessed children cannot disappoint.

She will find a way, because she is a vessel of God, and she will bring her prized people salvation.

 

* * *

 

She’ll meet up with everybody and tell them what to do.

That’s how Angie’s going to fix this, she’s concluded. Call a meeting, give everyone a plan and a set of rules that will surely make their experience grander – tell them how they’re in a safe place, and how they can rest easy now that the hard part is over.

So they don’t have to cry anymore, or fight anymore, or hurt anymore.

She needs to control this. Whatever this is.

 

* * *

 

Not everyone gathers in the common room, which makes her mission harder.

(‘Not everyone’ meaning only Shuuichi, Tenko and Himiko are there. Maki’s in the corner but she’s got her headphones in so it’s more likely a coincidence.)

Her plan falls apart before it’s begun.

“I, I’m sorry, Angie-san.” Shuuichi looks like he feels guilty, which is ridiculous, because he couldn’t have _changed_ the outcome.

 _That’s alright_ , Angie thinks, but it’s not alright.

She suddenly realizes how powerless she is. If she needed help and called out, would anybody even hear her? She’s not even sure they showed up because she asked, or because Tenko and Himiko just feel bad for her, and Shuuichi is there because he had nothing better to do.

“Let’s watch some TV instead,” Tenko suggests, trying to ease the tension with a bright smile.

“Magical girls,” Himiko decides, and she’s met without objections. With faux cheer, she flops onto the couch, and Maki hands her the remote.

They all pretend not to hear the crashes down the hall, and what might be Kaito and Kaede shouting at each other and Miu’s sharp “shut the fuck up, shitheads!” that bounces off the walls. Rantarou’s voice emerges in an attempt to calm the situation, and it’s shot down by Miu again, and then Kaede’s yelling at Miu, then Gonta bursts out to placate Kaede, and Kokichi chirps something that sets the whole lot of them into a full fledged argument that ends with doors slammed and a glimpse of Kirumi racing down the stairs to escape the cacophony.

Fractured, like a pretty patterned dinner plate Angie once smashed with her bare hands (because she wanted to feel the delicate china split into beautiful broken pieces under her knuckles), that’s how being here feels.

 

* * *

 

 

She knows what’s real and what’s not.

Angie doesn’t come from a faraway island, she isn’t a vessel of God, and even if she still believes, she isn’t benevolent in the slightest.

 _Danganronpa V3_ was a simulation. So what?

So nothing was real. So in reality, she is not special at all. She can’t even draw now, much less sculpt with these weak hands, and she remembers how it used to be her only escape.

How she never had anything to live for so she just numbly drew and drew until her hands were trekked with ink and graphite. How she was no good at it no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she wanted to be good at _something_ , to live for _something_ in this world that had all but abandoned her.

She had almost given up, back then. She was upset, and so terribly lonely, and nobody would have cared if she disappeared. She thinks her mother might have been relieved when she told her about signing up for _Danganronpa._

But one thing has changed.

 _Danganronpa_ gave her something to live for, something to believe in — her friends. There’s no reason for her to be sad anymore.

If she isn’t doing good enough, she needs to try harder. That’s all it is.

 

* * *

 

It hits hardest at the photoshoots though, when everyone is dressed in the outfits from the killing game. One distracted glance could almost make it real (fake) again.

But it’s not and Angie prefers it that way. Because now Angie is a good girl, a better girl, and her God doesn’t talk to her anymore so she can believe that she is doing the right thing. He would punish her if she doesn’t, isn’t that how it works?

She crosses her yellow coat over her chest again, not for the first time wondering why _Danganronpa_ decided to have her so exposed when some of the others are covered completely, but it’s not a big deal.

Tsumugi says it’s because she has this sort of fun island charm to her, and it shows off her piercings, all sparkly on her tummy, but Angie isn’t really listening when Tsumugi talks these days.

She supposes there’s more pressing things to be insecure about, like how _Team Danganronpa_ seem to think it’s okay to snap shots up her skirt because she’s wearing a bathing suit underneath. How terribly invasive, she thinks, but she did consent to it – _before_ the simulation, that is.

It comes back with horrifying clarity, just how much Angie Yonaga signed her agreement to before joining _Danganronpa._

(She’s a toy to them. To dress up and play with as they please.)

She supposes she really was that desperate back then. She didn’t care what happened to her, she threw everything into getting a role, and she got it. She should be grateful. She is.

Her name is on the agreement form, she can’t do anything. Can’t say anything.

So Angie doesn’t say anything, because she doesn’t think it matters that much, even when she’s pushed against Miu, and the taller girl – despite their differences and despite the fact she’s verbally announced how much she hates Angie’s guts time and time again – holds down her skirt for her, telling the photographers to “fuck off, or else!”

She peels Miu’s fingers away from her skirt, and shakes her head silently when the other girl hesitates. She’s not going to cause any trouble.

(But when even Miu – dirty-mouthed, spiteful Miu would step in to defend her dignity, she wonders if _Danganronpa_ really is the bad guy. They can’t be. Miu probably just wants her to break the rules, and she won’t.)

She just smiles, because everyone else is grinning and bearing it, and if this is the price she has to pay to have finally something to believe in, then so be it.

 

* * *

 

Hey, she’s really not popular, is she?

No!

Oh, Angie knows people hate her. She’s not that ignorant.

Bad!

They hate the way she dresses and acts, they hate the way she looks, the way she talks, the way she never seems to falter. They mock her, they scorn her, they call her all sorts of names.

Thoughts!

It’s fascinating how much she cares, really!

“I care a lot,” she’ll say. “Angie cares so much her heart might explode into a million pieces of confetti and rain down upon everybody in a gory celebration!”

But she doesn’t.

No, Angie doesn’t care.

Angie is the terrible, awful, manipulative maniacal girl.

Angie is the weird, stupid, airheaded girl.

Angie is the unfortunate, unlucky, happy girl.

She is everything people say she is.

She doesn't care one bit what people think.

She’s a hypocrite, always. It doesn’t matter.

Angie only knows how to smile.

And she is okay with that.

 

* * *

 

Angie wants to help the only people in the world that matter to her. That is all she wants.

Shuuichi, bless his soul, told her that he knew she was trying and that she didn’t have to do it all alone.

He was, however, trapped beneath her in the Love Suite photoshoot when he said that, so Angie doesn’t know if he was making conversation to be polite or if he’d have said anything at all if he wasn’t trying to make her feel more at ease straddling him and not enjoying it one bit.

Still, physical contact is something that reminds Angie that this is reality.

It grounds her. Reassures her.

When she hugs Shuuichi tightly after the shoot, he hugs her back, gentle fingers carding through her hair.

“It’s going to get better, Angie-san.” He says.

“I know.” She answers him, burying her face in his chest. “God told me so.”

She says this even though He didn’t, because He doesn’t talk to her anymore but Shuuichi doesn’t need to know that.

“Okay.” Shuuichi replies, patting her on the head. “That’s good. That you know, I mean. It’s been hard for everyone. I just wanted to make sure you know it won’t be like this forever.”

“You’re right. I’ll make it better.” Angie’s words are decisive, and unwavering. “For everyone.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I do.” She says. “And I will.”

“Okay.” He replies. She doesn’t like that he sounds so unsure.

 

* * *

 

Smiles always make people feel better, don’t they?

So why don’t Angie smiles work? Angie smiles and smiles but they all look at her like she’s unreal, like she’s wax and wood and tape and glue. That doesn’t make sense. Is it so hard to believe that she’s happy?

“Angie…” Himiko murmurs, hands stuffed in her oversized sweater. “You know. Showing your emotions, like, how you really feel… that isn’t weak. Even I learnt that. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Okay?”

“What do you mean?” Angie asks, tilting her head to the side. “Angie is showing her emotions, clear as clear can be.”

“You don’t … have to feel guilty for feeling bad things.” Himiko continues without much acknowledgement, and it’d be rude maybe but Angie loves Himiko so she forgives her. Always. “Everybody does.”

“Angie knows that.” She replies, blinking owlishly. “But Angie don’t have anything to feel bad about. I am happy to be alive, it is truly divine!”

“And I’m happy you’re alive,” Himiko says a little firmer. Not weak. Not like Himiko used to be. “But I don’t believe you’re truly okay with everything that happened. Angie, I see you better now than I ever have before. I used to be like you, too, y’know. Believe me when I say this – denying the truth is only going to hurt you more.”

Angie goes silent for a moment. She is not denying anything. Himiko is wrong, but Himiko is her friend, so she’s not allowed to say she is wrong, because that’s not what good girls do.

“Angie is going to get tea now,” she declares instead. Himiko is smart, and seems to know that the conversation is over.

“Nnh… well… I’m going to take a nap then,” Himiko responds. She rubs her eyes and looks like a tired kitten. Angie smiles.

“Magical dreaming, Himiko!”

The corners of her lips quirk up. “Yeah. Magical drinking, or whatever. Tea is good for you.”

“It is! And so is naptime! Bye-onara for now!” Angie grins bigger, and despite the force she uses to yank open the door, she shuts it much more gently.

Her trip to the kitchen is all smiles too.

She sees people on the way — Maki, Kirumi, Gonta — but nobody stops to chat, they just sweep past, swift and fleeting.

And Angie keeps smiling.

If she keeps on smiling, someone will smile back, won’t they? Why do they have to look at her with such pitying eyes?

 

* * *

 

“It sucks, huh?”

Angie blinks. “What sucks?”

“Everyone’s so mopey and gross,” Kokichi says, waving his arms languidly about. “You know what I mean? It’s like the hallways reek with depression. Absolutely reek! Way to stink up the place! And everyone just expects that they’ll wake up and suddenly be better! Like they’re waiting for some miracle cure, like some happy-day spray to make all your worries go away, right?”

“Ooh! That just rhymed!” Angie giggles. “And aww, Kokichi, don’t say that! It’s not always like that! Probably!”

“Probably,” He repeats passively before sighing. “Whatever. I guess you wouldn’t get it, huh.”

Angie pulls a face. “Huh.”

“‘Cause you’re an idiot, Angie-chan,” He says in complete seriousness. “You don’t care that everyone’s done bad things, ‘cause you believe in the good in people or something, don’t you? That’s why you’re talking to me.”

“Nuh-uh,” She replies. “Angie is talking to you because you are Angie’s friend!”

Kokichi pulls a face, shuffling a little lower into the sheets of his bed. “Eugh, gross, since when?”

“Since God said so! Angie says so!” Angie rolls her eyes ‘cause it should have been obvious already. “Not like you can do anything about Angie hanging out here anyway, no, no, poor Kokichi, so sad, can you even get out of bed by yourself yet?”

“Nope,” Kokichi chimes cheerfully. “Though one time I did try to stand up and I ended up rolling under the bed like a wriggly worm. Found my roots as a little ol’ worm, that’s me. It was hilarious. You should’ve been there! Real knee-slapping fun!”

“Oh, that’s funny.” Angie says without much inflection in her tone. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like. Weren’t you scared?”

“Hmm?”

“Kokichi. Weren’t you scared?”

“Why would I be scared?”

“What if nobody came to help you?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Kokichi answers with an innocent bat of his eyes. “It’s not like anybody really cares about me, here. Not even you do, Angie-chan! You can’t even lie about that!”

“Rude!” Angie’s cheeks puff like she’s eating marshmallows, but the marshmallows are made of air and aren’t marshmallows at all. “How do you know how Angie feels? I do care about you, Kokichi, I care about everybody!”

“Duh, I do. I know more than you do, anyway, ‘cause you’re all chit-chat and you only like people because you want them to like you back, not because you actually care about them,” he shrugs, “But I don’t wanna talk about lame stuff like that. You’ve made me talk too much and now my throat is sore and it’s all your fault. You’re not nice at all, Angie-chan.”

For some reason, Kokichi’s words makes her tummy tense.

“I do care about you,” she insists.

“Why?”

It takes a long moment of thinking for Angie to realize that she cannot answer that.

Kokichi grins at her. “Do you think I’m lonely, Angie-chan? Do you feel sorry for me?”

“No, no, no,” Angie says even though she does. She’s starting to learn that lying comes easier without a God to stop her, but she can’t help it. Kokichi is a liar, so she must be a liar. For a perfect liar-liar interaction. “Lonely people don’t look like you at all.”

“Oh, really? Then what do lonely people look like?”

“Angie has never been lonely,” she continues, letting the story freefall from her tongue. “But when people are lonely, they walk around with… sad eyes… nervous hands… sometimes, when they are laughing, they don’t look lonely but there’s one tiny bitty second where their smile isn’t real and that’s when you know. Ya know?”

“Hm.” Kokichi taps at the bedframe, brows creasing in thought, and Angie finds herself surprised. After the incredibly bored expression on his face, she didn’t think he had been listening at all. “You’ve never been lonely, Angie-chan? I find that preeetty hard to believe.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Angie tells him. It’s even easier to lie, the more she keeps doing it. Practice does make perfect, how very expected. “Angie was very happy before _Danganronpa_! All of her friends and family surrounding her every day… how could anyone feel lonely in a warm and lovely place like that?”

“What were you like?” He asks suddenly. “Before _Danganronpa_?”

“Sorta the same,” she says. “Maybe more bouncing around? Angie was a super active child.” She puts her hands on her hips and scolds mockingly, “Angie, don’t do that! Angie, don’t touch that! Angie, no, come back! Angie, this is not what God wants! Angie, no! Angie, stop!”

“And now, thanks to that, you act like you’re permanently high on something. Or like, a crazy person, I guess.” Kokichi concludes ever-so-nicely, the grin creeping back into his face. There’s no real bite to his words. “Bet _Danganronpa_ made you worse.”

“Well, _Danganronpa_ is a dangerous drug!”

“Don’t do drugs, Angie-chan, yeesh!”

Angie rolls her eyes. “Don’t do drugs, yourself, dummy head.”

“Did you just call me a dummy head?”

“That’s what you are.”

“No, that’s what _you_ are.”

“Dummy head.”

“You’re the dummy head,” he frowns.

“God says I’m not the dummy head, so you are the dummy head,” she huffs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Kokichi falls silent at that, but Angie wonders if it’s really because of what she said or because his deep thoughts have caught up to him. Kokichi is always thinking of things, and even Angie knows that he’s not going to stop thinking any time soon.

She wonders if Kokichi is happy, living like this.

“You know, Angie-chan, you’re right. I don’t know you very well.” He pipes up again. It’s only now that she notices how ghastly he looks, thin and pale as he lies back against his pillows and talks like Angie’s on the ceiling instead of the ground. “That’s the truth for you too, isn’t it? You don’t really know anyone here, you’re just sort of stuck with them.”

“What are you getting at?” She asks, tilting her head. She can see his veins through his skin. It takes her everything not to reach out and poke them.

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs. “Nobody here would know if you’re lying.”

She blinks. It’s starting to become a habit. Kokichi has always been hard to read, but she had thought she was better at reading people than this.

His smile rings sinister. “Nobody but me, of course.”

Angie beams back at him. “That’s a lie, too.”

“If you say so.” Kokichi replies.

He doesn’t say anything else when she exits the room with a foreign feeling of tightness to her expression.

 

* * *

 

She spends the rest of the day with Tenko and Himiko in the common room watching movies.

It’s a little funny, actually. Kaede joins them after the first, and the other three girls are laughing and pointing and laughing, but Angie doesn’t know when it’s the right time to laugh so she doesn’t.

They’re on their fourth movie when Tenko finally asks her if she’s having fun, asks if they should change the movie to something more pew-pew and pow-pow that she might enjoy, but Angie suddenly realizes that she wasn't watching any of the movies at all.

She excuses herself when it starts getting dark outside.

She’s smiling every step of the way.

 

* * *

 

Ah.

Ha, ha.

Ha ha ha! Ooohh, of course, this would happen! Of course, of course!

‘Cause he is alive even after he died, just like Angie is alive after he killed her, and now Angie wants to laugh, like the suppressed giggles would finally make their way to the surface, even though it’s not the right time to be laughing at all!

Nyahahaha! It’s inevitable that they’d run into each other eventually, but nighttime isn’t when Angie wants to see Korekiyo again. Hahaha, no, no! Any time but _nighttime_ , Angie thinks, because – because –

The dim lights and the way he looks — pale, cold, and unseeing — sends flashes of memories she doesn’t want at all. He’s sooo tall, tall like a column, like a stick, like a pole, like a snake if snakes could stand upright, and he could just cut Angie up into itty bitty pieces now, couldn’t he–

No, no, no, no, no!

He bows his head when he notices her, dark curtain of hair falling over his eyes as he stiffly, silently slips himself past her, and it’s only then that Angie realizes she’s frozen on the spot.

 _Next time, you should kill him,_ whispers the devil in her brain that isn’t God because God doesn’t sound nearly so mean and cruel. _What? It’s only fair._

Angie cups her hand to her mouth, horrified.

_It’ll be easy. He’s not going to fight back! You know he wouldn’t. Not against you._

“…no,” Angie whispers, shaking her head over and over. “Angie would never do that. No more violence. Nobody needs to get hurt.”

_You’d simply be repaying the favor._

“No.” Angie says. “No, no, _no!_ ”

She sees Korekiyo pause in the corner of her eye, stuck in a half-turn as he seems to debate whether her distress is worth his intervention. Angie doesn’t want that. She can taste something unpleasant rising in her throat even as she tries to keep it down. She can’t face him today.

So she takes a step. Then another. She starts running. He doesn’t follow.

She flings herself into her room and knocks her head against the door. Then she panics, because she thinks she might be bleeding but when she checks, she really isn’t, so it was funny to have thought so in the first place.

Ha, blood! She feels queasy. She’s supposed to like blood, right? Because that’s her thing.

 _You don’t have a thing._ Her devil murmurs again. _You’re not special. You’re not chosen, or blessed. You’re just a girl who God abandoned. Aren’t you? Aren’t you? Aren’t you?_

Angie wishes she never died. Maybe this would be easier. Or maybe it would have been easier if she stayed dead.

Maybe she wouldn’t think about the kitchen knives locked up in the cabinet downstairs, and how she could ask so nicely for them, and how easy it would be to chop through his hair, chop, chop into his neck– no, no, no, nonononononono– bad, bad, that’s bad, she can’t do that!

Maybe she wouldn’t think about the thermostat in the studio and how she was always only steps away from turning up the heat because she knows her killer– hahaha! Killer! She had one of those! God, God, why wasn’t He there to save her, He was always supposed to look after her – would panic, panic, panic, she knows those dying memories still hurt him so, so much, just like they hurt everyone, everyone but Angie– but no, no, no, stop it, she doesn’t want to be this way– ahahahaha! Hahaha, Korekiyo killed her! She thought he was her friend but he killed her like she was nothing! Hahahahahaha!

Maybe she wouldn’t think about screaming at him until he’s terrified of her, until he wants her to pretend he never existed because it would hurt less. Maybe she wouldn’t be thinking about hurting him in the first place.

She hides her face in her hands and screws her eyes shut. She’s a terrible, terrible person. Normal people don’t think about hurting their friends. Normal people don’t think they’d enjoy doing it. She’s the worst.

She’ll have to apologize to him now, but the very thought sends her stomach into twists and knots. The worst, the worst, the worst.

 _Don’t forget who you really are, Angie Yonaga._ Her conscience laughs, because that’s who the true devil is, isn’t it? Her very own self. _The girl that God abandoned._

 

* * *

 

She wants to kill Korekiyo. Conceptually.

She wants to get rid of him forever because if he’s gone, then she can’t be hurt by anything he does anymore. If he’s gone, she will be a good girl again.

“But Angie! Angie! It’s not his fault!” She chirps to herself, opening and closing her right hand like it’s speaking to her, because she doesn’t even know who she is at this point. “ _Danganronpa_ was the one that made him that way! He’s not really like that at all!”

“But Angie! Angie!” Her left hand starts to chat back to her right. “He’s your friend! Everybody deserves a second chance! Isn’t that what forgiveness is about? Angie, Angie, you’ve gotta forgive him! ‘Cause you love everybody! You forgive everybody! Isn’t that what you have to do? Isn’t that what a child of God does?”

“Buuuut Angie! You’re not a child of God anymore!” Her bottom lip trembles.

Her right hand is angered by that, and if hands had mouths, it would be shouting. “Anyone can be a child of God, you just have to believe! Believe and forgive! Believe! And! Forgive!”

 

* * *

 

She dreams that he lunges for her, board in hand, then she grabs the nearest candle, hot wax dripping all over her fingers and ouchie-ouchie-ouch sets the room alight. Then she’s off to the next candle, and the next, brushing fire to everything she can reach as the temperature escalates, higher and higher.

“Burn!” She yells. “Burn and rot and die! Die! Die! Die!”

“Angie-san,” he growls, but even then, he’s more dignified than she. “You are not aware of what you have done…!”

He chases her, nothing but a weighted shadow in the air, and she lets the blaze take the exits and start to consume the walls and the floor. The room is so wooden and dry that the fire spreads quickly, and the smoke eats at their lungs as it burns through the rotten wood relentlessly.

“Angie doesn’t care anymore! Angie wants you to die, so die already! Die!”

Korekiyo has to slow, his oxygen intake already limited by the mask, and Angie swoops through the cover of smoke to grab him by his hair and shove him into the fire with all her might. He shrieks and kicks back at her and it knocks the breath from her lungs. Angie has never felt so much fury and fear (and fear and fury) in her life.

“We’re not getting out of here alive!” She screams, and for once, there is no God, only the pathetic human prophet puppet Angie and her would-be killer and a room of flames and smoke.

“You… y-you ruined everything!” He screams back, scrambling forward, and grabbing her by the yellow sleeve, flinging her back into the smoke as she wails.

“Die! Korekiyo, _die_! Just burn alive! Be an ungodly sacrifice!”

“I refuse… to allow this outcome…!”

He slams the floorboard over her head and it splinters, and Angie can feel the blood trickling down her forehead, and she snarls. She is not dead yet, but soon they both will be. She will make sure of it.

“If Angie is going to die, then you are as well!”

She clenches the last candle between her fingers, the wax melting like mush and scalding her skin as she steps towards him and for a split second, she thinks she has him cornered, but he convulses – and starts shaking, and against expectations, he starts to cry.

“Kore–” Angie feels nothing, but everything at the same time. “Heey, wh– why is Korekiyo crying? That’s not gonna put out the fires, y’know!”

When he speaks again, it doesn’t sound like he’s talking to her at all. “P– p-please, help, I- I don’t know what to do… at this rate, I really am going to die… is this an ending you would allow? Killing Angie-san… if I cannot even accomplish that much, I… d-don’t… know what to do... ”

He goes still without warning, and flings his hat into the fire, removing his mask, muttering, “Do not become so easily overwhelmed, Korekiyo, you have better control than that,” and sighing. “Apologize, won’t you? Apologize.”

Shaking, Korekiyo goes back to his murmurs of, “I-I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry–” before he once again composes himself and barks, “Enough.”

He meets Angie’s gaze with a surprising grace.

“Foolish girl, you have tormented Korekiyo enough,” he says calmly, for a moment, before his eyes grow sharp. His tone, his demeanor and even the look on his face is entirely unlike any she’s seen on him before. Except, she has seen this. On a screen. Behind a glass pane. Korekiyo’s… sister. Yes, yes. That’s who it is. It must be. “I will not allow any more harm to come to him. Apologize. Come on. Apologize. Apologize. Apologize.”

Angie stares defiantly back, then grabs a carving tool from her belt and leaps, but Korekiyo’s sister is more agile, catching her by the wrist before she can force the tool into her skin. She twists Angie’s wrist in a strange way, and it hurts, hurts, hurts, so she drops her weapon and screams when she twists her hand further.

“I regret to make this more violent than it must, however… you have forced my hand.” Sister says, but Angie refuses to allow this outcome, so she slams her knee into her stomach and goes tumbling back into the floor.

Even between the flames, Angie feels a sudden chill run down her spine, and before she can react, Korekiyo’s sister flies towards her with Korekiyo’s saw from earlier, and Angie feels a searing sensation ripping through her coat and cutting her skin open. She strikes her again, and the remaining candle mush falls from Angie’s hand as she clutches her bleeding arm in pain. Her knees scrape as she falls to the floor, a wave of dizziness coursing through her throbbing head.

“You know, dearest Angie-san,” Sister murmurs, cleaning the blade with her bandaged fingers, far too nonchalantly. Her legs don’t seem to hold her for much longer as she drops to the ground as well, slowly burning alive, both their flesh and clothes rapidly scorching and shriveling as they lay together. Disgustingly. Tragically. Deservedly. The stench in the air is suffocating. “You are quite a spirited girl and I admire that. Korekiyo may have made many grave oversights in his plans, but I am not opposed to killing you. I hope we do end up becoming friends in heaven, don’t you?”

“God will not… forgive you…” Angie whispers.

She giggles, looking far too pleased for someone on the verge of collapse. “Oh, that’s alright. God was never going to forgive me, anyway.”

 

* * *

 

Angie wakes up okay.

She’s gotta be. She looks her hands over and over, checking them for burn marks, and nothing is there. Her skin is smooth and her tongue doesn’t taste like ash.

Everything is just fine. She’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna smile and she’s gonna make it through another day.

 

* * *

 

Himiko, Maki and Tenko knock at her door.

Angie joins them for a half-breakfast half-lunch, but weirdly, she can’t get into the conversation at all. It’s like she really is walking around dead, like a corpse, but more alive, ‘cause corpses are stiff and unmoving and Angie is alive and warm and smiling, still.

Curiously, as she’s peering out of the kitchen and completely ignorant to the way Tenko and Maki exchanged concerned looks behind her back, she sees Miu scuttle past, hood drawn up over her head. What a funny girl, she thinks.

 

* * *

 

“What do you want, Angie?” Himiko asks eventually, when Angie is finally hearing her again.

“Whaddaya mean ‘what do I want’?” She queries back, poking uninterestedly at the edamame in her bowl.

“Are you gonna keep pretending you’re fine and everything’s okay? You know, feeling things is still on the table if you ever wanna pick that up.”

“Angie feels plenty of things,” she says.

Maki sighs, gesturing for Angie to pass the edamame bowl, which she does gracefully. “Just drop it, Himiko. She isn’t going to listen.”

“Angie is listening,” she tells her. “All Angie wants is for everyone to find a safe place, that’s all.”

“And how are you going to do that, Angie-san?” Tenko crosses her arms, looking on with that familiar sternness that Angie hadn’t seen in a while. It’s quite refreshing. This is the Tenko she remembers well.

“Easy-peasy,” she replies, sing-song. “Angie’s gonna make everyone friends, and once we’re friends, we will be okay! ‘Cause friends don’t hurt each other, y’know?”

“It seems you haven’t learnt anything at all,” Maki remarks, sticking a bean into her mouth. “But whatever. As long as you don’t do anything stupid, it’s not like we can stop you.”

 

* * *

 

What does Angie want, she wonders.

Angie wants everyone to forget about dying and killing and all that gloomy stuff. She wants everyone to be united like Kaede said they would be – friends and fun and making memories together after they escaped! Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? A grand escape from the killing game!

Never mind that Tsumugi is always just lurking around the corner! Tsumugi is Angie’s friend too, so why does it matter that she’s part of _Danganronpa_?! Angie’s not _Danganronpa’s_ Angie anymore, so what makes Tsumugi any different?!

Nobody belongs to _Danganronpa_! It wasn’t real, so it’s time to move on! Angie is dead, but she isn’t! Angie is dead, but she’s alive! And she is very, very grateful! Thank you, God!

 

* * *

 

Korekiyo runs away from her this time.

It’s not likely he knows what she’s thinking, ‘cause he’s not a mind reader or a psychic or anything, but she’s almost relieved. She will apologize to him one day, but not now.

Now, Angie is thinking that at least she didn’t have to see Tenko die, or Miu die, or Gonta or Kokichi or Kaito or Kiibo die, because their deaths would have made her very, very sad indeed.

Amidst her thoughts of death, she guesses it’s only fitting that they have a photoshoot for it – “killers and victims”, teeheehee, and Angie stares at the theme disbelievingly – it’s too soon, she thinks. It’s far too soon. Even with Angie’s terrible, terrible sense of time, it’s too, too soon.

“Tenko is telling them to call it off,” Tenko snaps when she sees the announcement, and Angie takes her hand to try and calm her temper. “This is ridiculous!”

“Wh-why would I wanna hang out with that dumbfuck, anyway?” Miu growls from her spot on the couch, but it doesn’t hide the quake in her voice.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Tenko says. “This idea is the worst.”

“It’s not so bad.” Angie says decidedly, somehow trying to be the voice of reason. “We were going to have to do it eventually.”

“There’s a difference between being forced to and choosing to do so willingly,” Ryouma points out.

“Whoa! When did you get here, shortstack?!” Miu shrieks, falling onto Tenko who yelps as she tries to steady her. Angie, still holding Tenko’s hand, gets pulled into it, but she’s no match against their combined weight, and is only lucky that Tenko yanks her out of the way before she gets squished into the wall.

“I’ve been here the whole time.” He deadpans. “What is this anyway? The victims’ prayer circle?”

“Might as well be.” Rantarou laughs awkwardly as he enters the waiting room with Kokichi on his back. He sets the smaller boy down onto the nearest chair, making sure that he’s comfortable before moving away. He shoves his hands in his pockets as he leans against the wall. “Well, everyone’s here so I guess something’s going to happen.”

“Sure, but none of us actually wanna fuckin’ photo booth with our killers,” Miu growls, chewing on the ends of her nails nervously. Angie watches the little charms on her bracelet dangling as she moves, restless and uneasy.

“Why? I think it’s a great idea,” Kokichi chimes in sarcastically.

“Shut up shitstain, nobody asked you.”

“Wow, mac-and-sleaze, I thought you weren’t talking to me anymore.”

“Fuck off, you ass, you basically set the axe on me and that bugbrain Gonta so you shouldn’t even be here,” Miu growls, turning away. Angie doesn’t miss the flash of guilt — maybe, probably, if he’s capable of it, it might be — that crosses Kokichi’s face.

“But you wouldn’t be here if Gonta was,” Angie chimes on his behalf. Her gut is twisting. She has to be fair and even. She has to make sure everybody gets along. “And you tried to kill Kokichi, didn’t you?”

“Fuckin’ whatever,” Miu dismisses. “I just did what you all wanted to!”

“Ooh, that one hurt. I’m wounded,” Kokichi drawls, rolling his eyes, but the energy isn’t there. “Well, I guess I can’t blame you. I wouldn’t have let any of you kill me anyway.”

Ryouma raises an eyebrow. “Yet Momota managed to fall into his own category, I presume.”

“Couldn’t be helped!” Kokichi replies, dramatically leaning against the back of his seat and flinging an arm over his face. “Don’t you feel sorry for me? Being stuck with Momota-chan for so long, even when I was bleeding and dying… it was torture…”

“Nobody feels sorry for you,” Tenko says.

“Nyahahaha! Not for that part, at least,” Angie adds, waggling a finger. “I’m glad Kokichi and Kaito got time to bond, even if it was under dire circumstances.”

“Why do you care?” Miu grumbles under her breath, but Angie ignores her, in favor of sticking her tongue out at Kokichi, who sticks his tongue out at her as well. Rantarou seems mildly concerned at their interaction, but not enough to say anything, which Angie is grateful for.

“I guess when a guy kills you, you do have to become best friends, huh,” Kokichi comments, head falling back as he folds his fingers in his lap. That sparks another yell of protest from both Tenko and Miu, but Angie tunes them out in favor of watching Rantarou’s expression grow more and more concerned by the second. How funny.

She knows in her mind that Kokichi had been joking, but she tosses the phrase ‘best friends’ around in her head a few times, and wonders who she could consider her best friend. Himiko? Tenko? But did they really care about her, or did they feel obliged to hang around her? Hmmm, she wondered. Hmm-hmmm-hmm.

She won’t doubt them, she decides. Because they are so very precious to her and she loves them so much. So then she thinks about Kokichi and Kaito kinda-sorta making up even though one killed the other, and decides that she might talk to Korekiyo, after all. If he’ll hear her out.

Buuut she doesn’t want to.

But she should.

But she doesn’t want to!

The answer to her dilemma comes in an unlikely form – Tsumugi peering her pretty head into the room with an irritated expression barely masked by her moon-round glasses. She clears her throat once, and the argument disperses, the air growing tense, and eyes falling on her with varying levels of contempt.

Angie wonders how Tsumugi must feel, knowing that none of her friends like her at all.

“Don’t be too excited. I am just here to plainly announce that the photoshoot has been postponed for the time being,” Tsumugi’s informs them with a clipped tone. “Though, I suppose you’re all actually relieved, aren’t you?”

“Not while you’re still here,” Kokichi says.

“Goodbye, then,” Tsumugi replies, and disappears from sight again.

Divided, they scatter.

 

* * *

 

Angie talks to Tsumugi later. Wanting, hoping to understand.

“Are you sad?” Angie asks.

“No.” Tsumugi replies, staring uninterestedly at her nails. “Everything was perfect.”

“Was it?”

“Of course.”

“Oh? How so?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Angie-san,” Tsumugi says dismissively, seeming tired by the interaction already. “I was wrong about you, I suppose. All of you. Without _Danganronpa_ , you’re just as plain and boring as I am,” she sighs. “Now that you’ve changed… now that you’re not perfect anymore… I don’t know how I thought anything would be different. Hope truly is an inferior feeling to despair... it is simply so short-lived… so easy to crush. Despair, however, can go on and on…”

Angie tilts her head to the side and pulls on Tsumugi’s sleeve.

“Do you hate everybody, Tsumugi?” She tugs her closer and wraps her arms around her in a gentle hug. “You know… no matter what you’re feeling right now, there is a handsome God with red eyes looking over you… He will protect you from harm and nurture your happiness, as long as you promise to be kind and loving.”

“God isn’t real,” Tsumugi replies, slipping out of her embrace and adjusting her glasses. “The only thing that matters is _Danganronpa._ ”

Angie thinks of something that might hurt her to hear, and finds that she doesn’t hesitate in saying it.

“Hey, Tsumugi, you’re not really a nice person, are you?”

Tsumugi doesn’t respond.

“You’re not a good person at all.”

“Say what you like,” Tsumugi clips. “Nothing matters in the end. Fiction is forever, and you will never be able to change that.”

“Even if we can’t change fiction, the real world will keep moving, won’t it?” Angie rocks back and forth on her feet.

“Once you have lived _Danganronpa_ , you will die _Danganronpa_.” She says. “You will never be free, even when you leave this place.”

“Is that how you really feel?”

“It’s just how it is.” Tsumugi smiles at her, oddly gentle. “You agree with me, don’t you? You’re mine, after all. Everything about you belongs to _Danganronpa_ until the end. Here, you are only vessels for my perfect friends, and now that they have died, you are only cheap copies that will soon be thrown out once you’re no longer useful. Good person? Bad person? Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not a person and you’re not a person. The world will never see you as a person again. You’ll always be _Danganronpa._ You can’t escape _Danganronpa._ You’ll never leave your mistakes behind. They’ll follow you everywhere you go.”

This isn’t a safe place, Angie realizes.

With _Danganronpa,_ it will never be.

Angie nods, “If that’s what it is, then it is.”

She just wanted it so badly that she convinced herself it was.

 


End file.
